It was a day later, right after Mira woke up, asking if she was in heaven or not. Of course, she was surprised she was alive, breaking into tears, having us console her all day long until she finally calmed down. As for questions... that could wait. First, let her recover mentally as best as she can... then I can ask her the question that I was thinking of.
Walking down from the second floor, the bakery smelled like cinnamon as Lira worked the ovens and prepared for the early morning rush. She had gotten up early again, no real surprise there, and was baking something that made my stomach rumble, wanting a bite of it. Upstairs, Mira was still asleep, along with Puck, who felt responsible for finding her and did not really want to let her out of sight right now. Good. I will have to make them work in pairs whenever they return to the streets.
Shaking my head, I refocused my mind as I had a goal in mind, and it wasn't sweet rolls or organizing the kids' future schedules.
"Hungry?" Lira asked as she pulled up a tray that already had a rolled-up, chocolate-covered bun on it. "Take this if you are heading out."
"Thanks!" I smiled, picked it up, and bit into it. It was still warm and perfect. It was just... "If you can make potions like this in the future..."
"You mean putting effects into bread?" she asked, but I thought she was joking. But of course, she wasn't, and suddenly, I couldn't tell if it was possible or not. Maybe someone already thought of it, maybe not. Huh.
"I didn't mean that, but," I said honestly, tilting my head as I looked at her, "If you think it can be done... why not?"
"I don't know if it can be. Hey, I don't even know how to make a potion!" She suddenly added, waving a finger at me.
"Sure, sure. Well, I'm heading out, trying to find something that will let us test the recipes inside that book."
"What should I tell those who come for... buying the freshest ones?" She asked, using our simple lingo to sell information.
"Tell them we will be back in business in three days. And tell them you have a free piece ready already."
"I do? What?"
"Tell them that the Crimson Ledger has attacked someone who had visited Silverhaven."
"..." For a moment, Lira's eyes widened, but then she began thinking, biting her lower lip. "Auriel, is this a good idea? I mean..."
"It is not a lie. It is the truth, and it is information. A pretty big one if you ask me..."
"But..."
"Nobody can fault us for it. It is just the truth." I shrugged; even if it was a risk, I was going to pay back the Ledger... And I will start doing it now. "Just tell them... Let them know it's free; then they will know it can be spread. You'll see."
"Haaah... Okay." She sighed, shaking her head and chasing away the worry. "I'll do so."
"I will be back soon." I nodded, smiling at her, and then exited the bakery, heading to my target before the sun even rose above the horizon.
The Adventurer's Guild, compared to last time when it was raining, was already full of people handing the door to each other as they moved in and out. Entering the hall, it was filled with the mix of rough laughter, and somewhere in the back, someone had already started arguing over a botched contract with one of the tellers. I could pick it out... the pay was too low or something.
With a shrug and a half-smile, I weaved through the noise and the smelly people. Most of them barely glanced my way anymore as I was a familiar face here, seen often helping the others out. Someone even stopped me, asking some questions, and to my own surprise, I could point them in the right direction, to the right contract on the wall... Damn. Am I actually working here now, or what?
"Back again?" one of the receptionists asked with a raised brow as I reached the far end of the Guild.
"Couldn't resist your charming faces," I shot back, examining his face, nodding toward Jorren's empty station. "Is he not in?"
"He is." the receptionist pointed to the left, and as I leaned over the counter, I saw him in the back room. Of course, it was still early in the morning.
With a hop, I vaulted over the counter, and nobody tried to stop me. And, of course, he was already waving me over, a sandwich in one hand and a mug in the other.
"Don't tell me you're here for work again," he grunted after I walked in. "You know, we have an opening for desk duty..."
"No, I did not know."
"I wasn't asking. I was offering." He chuckled, slurping on his coffee.
"I'd rather gargle acid," I replied, rolling my eyes and pinching the ridge of my nose. "I like helping once in a while, but doing it as a job? I'm not insane enough."
"Come on, boy, it is not that bad..." he muttered. "So? How was it?" he asked, keeping his voice low, closing the door so we could talk in private.
"It went... fine."
"Just fine?" he asked, trying not to push it too much, knowing that it may be something I can't talk about. But he did know where I went and that I was back.
"For now... Let's just say I am here because I got in. Look, I need to talk ingredients," I said, and that made him blink.
"Ingredients...?" Jorren leaned back slightly. "You're serious?" He asked, his voice rising a little as he scanned me up and down.
"I am. I need knowledge about the specific ingredients for potions. Not potion recipes! But ingredients... descriptions. With pictures if possible."
"Damn..." He made a face before biting on his sandwich, "Right. So, what's the angle? You switching careers to potion-making now?"
"No, probably not. But let's say I've got a... Drawing. I know the route, I know where the X is, but I'm missing the details of the map. It is still blank."
"Oh... I got it..."
"Here," I pulled out a short note with some of the samples I had written down. "I got a lot of old names for herbs, very much archaic stuff. I was hoping you'd point me toward someone or something who deals in herbal remedies."
"This is not a simple list, kid," Jorren narrowed his eyes at the note, setting his mug down. "I can't tell you if I know anything about these... Damn, I never heard anything like it! What are you trying to brew? Something that turns you into a God?"
"Only if they come with a refund clause," I said dryly. "No, this is serious. Can you help me?"
"Maybe..." He muttered, "But Auriel, I need more. I may be able to help you, but I know the level we are talking about. I can send you to a place, but if what they sell is only good for giving back the morning stiffness to a cripple..."
"Geez, Jorren, do you think I would try to make Viagra with herb names like those?"
"What's a Viagra?" He asked, his first time hearing it.
"Never mind. Look, I need to figure out the rest. Some of the ingredients don't even match anything in current registries."
"So it is an ancient one, eh?" Jorren scratched at his chin, his eyes flashing. "Sounds Murian."
I didn't react, of course, but the second flicker in his eyes told me he caught the truth anyway.
"Look, we don't keep a catalog of extinct or high-level ingredients, Auriel. But... there's a guy. Old crazy coot named Brannick. Lives near the East Wall Market, as far as I recall. He used to be a botanist before he spent too much time chewing firecaps and began talking to his plants. The last I heard, he swears half the herbs today are 'lies cooked up by bureaucrats.' That the quality had fallen so far as to sell us cheap counterfeits, and that we should rebel against the system. He has gone totally cuckoo."
"Sounds nice..." I grunted, making him chuckle.
"But he's got records. Old ones, kid. Not just that, he has maps, codices, and stuff even the Guild doesn't have copies of."
"Is he trustworthy?" I asked, already interested.
"No. But he's honest about being nuts, which is more than I can say for most vendors. Anyway, he may be genuine or a total hack. The thing is, I have nothing else. We can look for something, but..."
"Noted," I said, shrugging. "Thanks."
"Thank me after you get what you need."
"Will do! By the way... is there anyone in this city you don't know?"
"Only the kind of people I don't want to do anything with." He answered with a chuckle, watching me leave.
...
....
...
The East Wall Market was still in the middle of waking up when I arrived. The stalls and their tents were only half-raised, and a pair of fruit sellers were arguing over stall space, being too close. Eh, competition. Why not just sell different fruits? Anyway, ignoring the noise and the scent of strong spice and dried meat wafting through the wind, I followed Jorren's directions until I found what could only be Brannick's place...
"Jorren... You have gotta be kidding me..." I cursed under my breath.
It was a crooked wooden shack squatting between a dye shop and a cart repair stall, its door hanging open like a broken jaw with a knocked-out front row of teeth. There was a tangle of vines hanging from the roof like a beard and a bundle of crazy-looking wind chimes made from old spoons.
"Brannick?" I called out before entering, and it was a good thing I did.
A pile of rags on a stool right next to the door shifted, and a man emerged from the rags, or what was left of one. He could easily play it off as a zombie. His beard looked older than the city, and his robes were stained with dirt, oil, wine, piss, and shit, maybe... Going by the smell.. and his eyes... Ugh, they were the unsettling color of rotting flesh.
"I told you this place is mine! Wait... no. Customer? In here? Really?" he asked, one eye squinting suspiciously.
"I'm just here with some questions..."
"Then you are trouble," he cackled, standing with a wobble. "Well, whatever. Come, come! Step around the lavender, please; it's grumpy before noon."
I don't know what that meant, but... I stepped carefully, brushing past drying herbs and a table covered in books, jars, and scribbled notes written on what might've been old bread wrappers. To my surprise... it wasn't that stinky in here. It was mossy... earthy... but kinda relaxing.
"I'm looking for identifications," I said, focusing my thoughts. "Old names for reagents. I've got a list."
I pulled out the scribbled terms from the book, and Brannick snatched the note with a claw-like hand before I could react and scanned the paper, mumbling.
"Hmm... Redroot. Not root at all. It's a mushroom. Bleeds red when split from the stern. Found near sulfur beds... Rare. Dangerous. No, no, no... You don't want it. Likes cursed soil. Gossamer Milk... spider secretions, but only from a breed long gone from the surface. It might still exist underground. Not here. Far away..."
"Where?" I asked, suddenly shocked he knew what they meant... Jorren... are you really just a clerk?
"Underground," Brannick repeated as if I were the fool, looking at me scoldingly. "You want exacts? Bring me a live one."
"No, I don't want extracts; I need the plants... Ah, whatever... Look, anything still available in the city?"
Brannick picked through a crate, tossing things aside while mumbling, sometimes reading the short note I handed him. Finally, he produced a battered notebook, its cover stained with... dozens of marks, but its spine looked intact.
"This... this is what you want. Old names, yes, yes... Cross-referenced with my own usage, church records, and even apothecary slang. My master's mania. I hated it. Celibate? Not for me, no, no, no. I like women. Just women don't like me. Anyway... It's not complete. But if you're serious, it'll help."
"What's the price?"
"Hmhm..." Brannick squinted. "You got bread?"
"Plenty." I answered, but I wasn't sure if he was asking about... bread-bread or money."
"And cinnamon?"
"Yeah?"
"Then bring me six twists and a promise not to mention my name to anyone from the Guild. Hate them regulatory snobbish bastards... hmph."
"Um..." I blinked my eyes, thinking this was simply too easy. "Consider it done."
"Good, good." He hummed, pocketing the notebook and tapping his ragged robe. "Go, bring me my cinnamon buns, make them juicy, squishy, squelchy squelch... yum."
"Sure..." I grimaced, listening to him smack his lips... And suddenly... I wasn't so sure anymore.